Confessions of a Hopeless Romantic
by xa-thousand-milesx
Summary: Declan/Fiona twincest fic, from the pov of Fiona's diary, which holds her biggest secret. Takes place sometime after Declan/Holly J started dating, but before DTM and all that. Rated T, for now.
1. Chapter 1

A Declan/Fiona story from the point-of-view of her diary. So, remember, it's all as she sees the world and everything might not seem exactly as it really is. Rated T, _for now_. And only read if you like the idea of Declan/Fiona. (So excited for the kiss in the Degrassi movie, (!) even if she is just drunk) :) If you like it, please leave a review so I know someone's interested and I'll update it. I had a lot of fun writing this, and I'd love to continue it! I mean, uh, Fiona would XD And I'm not gonna bother dating the entries, though, because that would be kinda pointless.

**Saturday, 11:43 a.m. - Coyne's Residence, alone at kitchen table**

Of all the images to be greeted with first thing in the morning.

I admit I slept in a little late this morning but my brother sure does get off to quite an early start. I was just on my way across the hall to brush my teeth when I almost ran into him, my hands having to push off his bare chest.

Now, don't get me wrong. I happen to fully love every run-in I get with Declan's perfect chest. It's _why _he was so bare-chested that makes my head start feeling nauseous.

See, as soon as he saw me, he blurted out, "Fi! I didn't know you were here!" - which was stupid because I seem to never really leave here - and I looked up at his widened, clear blue eyes and noticed how particularly tousled his blonde locks appeared and, then, another voice rang into the hall. And well, it sure as hell wasn't mom's.

"Declan, did you get the syrup?" Holly J giggled like a crazy canadian nut as she ran out into the hall, wrapped in nothing but a bed sheet. Of course as soon as she saw me, she quickly wrapped it across even tighter, her seductive smile leaving her face. She just nervously gulped and mumbled out, "Oh..hi, Fiona."

Which, I felt, was honestly kind of rude. But, now that I think about it, I guess I must've looked kind of rude too, what with my arms folded across my chest, and my foot tapping angrily, and my throat trying to hold back vomit...

But, can you blame me? I mean, all morning, as I was sleeping innocently, dreaming of Europe and rainbows, and basking in the glow of my angelic purity, my twin and his inamorata were going at it in the bedroom right across from mine! And if it weren't for me being "here," they probably would've kept right on going! In fact, next, was apparently a fun, unsanitary game with syrup - which sound like it includes far more licking, than necessary. He's my brother, not an ice cream cone - !

That's right. Declan had already indulged himself in all his deepest, unspeakable desires before I had so much as made it to the bathroom for a spit 'n' rinse.

Of course, pride wasn't the issue, though. I don't even know what the issue really was. I just figured Holly J had enough issues for all of us.

And my poor, helpless brother has to hear her babble on about all of them. (I have to remember to pray they break up before his beautiful head just explodes. And, okay, it would be to the benefit of my head too.)

But at that moment, no one was babbling. No one even spoke. I stood there, in my PJ's, glaring, Holly J clung to Dec's arm in a bed sheet, her mouth slightly agape, and Declan kind of scratched his head nervously, dressed in just his boxers. So, it wasn't awkward at all.

"Well, nice seeing you 2," I regretfully remember myself saying, "Hope to bump into you again in the near future." - The latter wasn't exactly a lie, either, when directed at my brother. As long as Holly J wasn't around, I wouldn't at all mind colliding into his muscles all day. The other part...well, yeah, that was a lie. - And I just went right along on my way, hoping to God they had more sense than to just turn around and hop back into bed.

But I learned 2 things that morning:

First. Declans sex hair? It's very..._sexy._ I guess, if I was dating a boy with such crazy hot sex hair as Declan, I would run over to his house first thing every morning to mess it up too. It's not Holly J's fault for wanting him. It's my fault for needing him.

Oh, and the other thing?

I will _not_ be pouring syrup on my pancakes for a very, very long time.


	2. Chapter 2

Hey, thanx for all the reviews! Wrote this in my free time at camp so hope you enjoy the update :) Please keep reviewing and reminding me you want more(you know, if you do), or updates may slow down or stop. Oh, and I just watched DTM today. ...*bursts into tears* That was the saddest thing ever, and the Declan/Fiona plot was all that made the movie at all exciting and worth watching. I really hope Declan finding out about her abusive boyfriend makes them close again. And I still think Declan likes Fiona too (He totally kissed her back for a second ;) )

**Saturday, 3:17 p.m. - H&M, outside dressing room**

Finally got back into the swing of things this morning when cousin Vicki called and announced we'd be taking another shopping trip around town. I didn't really have much else I needed to buy, except shoes - because, really, who ever has enough shoes? - but she likes when I come along, anyway, so I can tell her what looks good and what she should go a size looser on if she wants to keep her blood circulating.

Still, I'm getting quite bored waiting outside these dressing room doors. Especcially when everyone who comes along keeps asking, "Are you in line? Are you sure? Are you sure you're not in line?"

Then, Vicki comes out and does some sort of spin-twirl pose and asks if what she's wearing makes her look like she has enough butt. And I remind her that her butt is just fine. And that having a big brain is more important, anyway.

Everything she tries on looks so simple. At least compared to what I wear. I guess I can't help being such a culturally sound woman of the world.

Vicki just dresses to fit in, - and yet, stand out, you know, for boy-hunting - like Declan.

Speaking of that buff-chested brother of mine, I considered telling Vicki about the Incident That Shall Remain Nameless just to get it off of my chest and on something other than paper. But I figured she'd probably just start cracking jokes about how "close" Decs and I are, and how I probably dedicated an entire paragraph to how hot his sex hair is (which I so didn't.)

But, I mean, I have to admit, I understand why she thinks that way. She did see -

One sec.

No. I am not in line.

Anyway, we find plenty else to dish about - you know, that doesn't involve blood relatives or, say..syrup...

She keeps bringing up some fashion designer competition she wants me to enter - since, when I'm not bumping into shirtless men or writing about it, I'm sketching - but I don't get why she's so persistent. I know she's always up for my advice on what to wear, but it's not like she always takes it (Once, I told her not to but this pair of pants...she bought 'em anyway.)

It sounds like a great opportunity, I know, - who wouldn't want to see their ideas brought to life and strutted down a runway? - I just don't think I have the time to see anything brought to life right now. After all, I have those college-level writing classes Declan and I just started taking together - _together_, sigh... - and, um, yeah. I think that's it.

But still.

Okay, and maybe I'm just a little bit scared of, oh, I don't know, _rejection._ I don't think I could handle someone crushing my dreams like that. Dreams are all I have.

I might just not be fashion designer material.

I do, however, make an excellent wardrobe mistress, which, by the way, has a very nice ring to it.

So, there is no way in hell dear cousin Vicki or anyone else for that matter can convince me to enter this daft, pointless, cheap excuse of a contest.

I won't. Not a chance. Forget it. Never. Not on my -

**Saturday, 6:15 p.m. **

Okay, I just entered.

Oh, c'mon. Like you didn't see that coming.


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, so the aftermath to DTM was a lot calmer than I thought. I can't believe Holly J's so willing to be friends again with Fiona, but it's probably because she's so desperate to keep Declan liking her, and wants to believe that their kiss really wasn't about any mutual feelings between them. Good thing I know better :) Another short update, I'll try to make the next one longer but they always look so much longer when written out. Thanks for all the reviews! You guys are amazing =))

**Sunday, 5:15 p.m. - Home alone again, still sketching**

Decs kept peeking over my shoulder when I was adding the finishing touches to some old designs I'd drawn - oh, the curses of being a perfectionist.

"Quit it," I fake-begged, "You're breathing on my neck!" (I think I forgot to mention it was 1 of the most pleasant sensations I'd ever felt in my life.)

"Oh, you mean like this?" He covered the side of my neck with a long, hot breath, and, well, I could no longer keep my pencil steady.

I gave up and just held up the drawing for him, "Well, whaddaya think? Will I win?"

Now, it's not like Declan is exactly Christian Dior - although for a guy, I have always thought him a pretty snappy dresser. Especcially when he chooses to go sans shirt - so I couldn't very well expect him to be able to fully appreciate the gown with all its delicate femininity and graceful drapery.

So, I didn't feel too bad when the best he could come up with to say was, "Why not? I don't think the judges will be able to find anything too much sexier."

I giggle-blushed. He's so sexy when he says sexy.

"So, when your clothing line gets pick up," He went on, "You gonna consider modeling it?"

"Are you kidding?" I laughed, "I can't even make my face look good, much less an outfit!"

And then, he gave me this look and said...what was it again? Ohh, right.

Something along the lines of, "C'mon, Fi, you're_ flawless_."

That was when he professed his incessant burning passion for me and rode me away on his white horse back to our castle in Geneva where we made love at sunset and lived happily ever after... (No, not really, but that would have been nice.)

So, anyway, he continued so fast, my heart barely had time to do the Tarantella - with my soul, of course, because dancing it alone would just be bad luck - because, when he added, "You share my DNA. It's a given," they both really were all too confused to even keep the beat.

Was that a compliment to _me,_ or...him? Or us? Or our parents for finding such genetically compatible mates - which still makes for quite a fine compliment - ?

Just, was I flawless or not? I mean, _I_ know I'm not. But does he know I'm not?

I can't be flawless, because..well, because I have flaws!

Let's see: my nose is big, my hair is frizzy, I suck so bad at singing that no one even knew how to break it to me - because I didn't know. Because I'm tone deaf, - and one really oughtta have the capability to hold their hand still as someone gently wafts breath onto their neck. And, hey, even keep their eyes open while they're at it.

But I just kept on smiling, anyway. Because when I smile, he smiles back. And then, everything's okay.

Then, he left to go putt balls and shmooze or something - I know he told me but I was too busy remembering to smile to actually listen. He just shrugged, gave me some eye brow raise, and walked out. It really was very sexy.

He really is just an all-around sexy kind of guy.

Which is very, very sexy.


End file.
